


Ingénue

by Kyne_7



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealousy, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-01 01:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14509176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyne_7/pseuds/Kyne_7
Summary: There was something about Kimura that just pissed him off. The way she smiled even when he said harsh things to her. The way she glanced at him even when she was deep in conversation with someone else. And she was too damn nice. No one was that nice. She was up to something shady, for sure, and it was up to Sakamoto Ryuji to figure out what.--In which Ryuji can't stand the new girl even though everyone else seems to get along with her just fine.





	1. Knack for This

Sakamoto Ryuji was hot-headed. Intense. Righteous. Sometimes a little bit slow. But Ryuji knew when something was off about someone, and you could trust he was going to say something about it. He was sure his friends appreciated it; hell, they probably relied on him for it. He had a nose for this kind of thing.

“I don’t like that Kimura girl,” he said, leaning in the hallway with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Ann groaned aloud; Akira glanced up from his phone and said, “You mean Miu?”

Ryuji made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “You’re already on a first name basis with her?”

“She’s nice.” Akira, a man of few words, went back to the text he was crafting to Yusuke.

“Nice,” Ryuji scoffed.

“How can you have a problem with her already?” asked Ann. “She’s been in your class for what, a day?”

“Two days,” Ryuji corrected emphatically.

“The worst two days of your life, it seems,” meowed Morgana, swishing their tail. “What has she done?”

“She’s just so…” Ryuji gestured with his hand and then scratched the top of his head with a sigh. “Y’know?”

“Articulate as ever,” said Morgana.

“She just rubs me the wrong way.”

“Didn’t she save you from Hiruta-sensei yesterday when you came in late?” asked Ann, eyebrows raised.

“I heard she let you borrow her textbook this afternoon, too,” said Akira.

Ryuji’s scowl deepened. “People are already talking about that? Damn, it’s like she’s made me her own personal project.”

“Maybe she’s just a nice person.”

“I can’t stand her,” spat Ryuji. He crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s too nice. It’s suspicious! No one’s that goody-goody, and I don’t like people that pretend they are.”

Ann’s eyes flicked past the blonde boy, around the corner. “Uh, Ryuji…”

“I don’t need her pity or her damn help, she’s just being a nuisance—”

“Ryuji!” Ann’s voice cut through his tangent with a sudden sharpness. Akira also had gone quiet, and Ryuji pushed off from the wall to turn and follow their line of sight.

Kimura Miu was a slight girl with western features, big green eyes, and wild black curls. She stood just beyond the corner, within earshot, a notebook clutched tightly to her chest and her schoolbag hanging from the crook of her elbow. She smiled at them, so wide and warm that Ryuji almost thought she hadn’t overheard him, but when she raised her hand to tuck her bangs behind her ear, her hand was shaking.

“I’m sorry to have been a bother, Sakamoto-kun,” she said, bowing her head.

Ryuji stared at her, his ears burning, and crossed his arms again awkwardly. He didn’t know what to say and her meek response made him feel oddly...guilty. He didn’t like that; why should he feel bad about what he said, he was right—

Ann dug her elbow into Ryuji’s side. “Say something to her!” she hissed. “Apologize!”

“I’m not going to—Ow, ow, ow, Ann, that hurts—”

“Thank you for letting me borrow your notes, Akira-kun,” said Miu, bowing again. She handed him the notebook she was clutching.

“No problem. Hope they helped.” Akira gave her a small smile, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Well, I’ll see you.” She offered a little half-wave and turned to go.

“Poor girl,” Morgan meowed softly in Akira’s bag.

“Miu-chan, wait!” Ann sent Ryuji another glare and jogged to catch up with her. “Do you want to walk home together?”

Ryuji tutted, watching Ann leave with her, and rubbed his sore side. “Man, Ann’s elbow is pointy.”

Akira gave his friend a sidelong glance right as his phone buzzed again. Probably Kitagawa. “You should give Miu a break. She’s just nice, and she’s new. You’re being cruel for no reason.”

Ryuji gaped at his friend. Was everyone against him on this? Why didn’t anyone see why she was suspicious? After all their experiences, he didn’t think Akira would be the trusting one—

“Yusuke, Makoto, and I are heading to Mementos tonight, do you want to come?”

“No.” Ryuji shoved his hands deep in his pants pockets as his friend frowned. “I’m not really feeling up to a fight right now.”

“Is he sick?” he heard Morgana mutter as Akira waved him goodbye.

The truth of it was that he was agitated, and smacking around a few Shadows would’ve been just the thing. But he didn’t feel like being around his best friend right now, not when they were so clearly on different pages about Kimura. He especially didn’t like that his friend had called his actions cruel.

“I’m not cruel,” Ryuji grunted, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “There’s something off about her.”

* * *

 

It seemed he was the only one of his friends who had any sense left. Ann insisted on befriending Kimura, rolling her eyes at Ryuji’s every protest.

_“Really, Ryuji, what has she done? I don’t think you’ve disliked someone this much since Kamoshida.”_

_“That’s an exaggeration, but I keep telling you I don’t think she’s really that nice, no one is that nice—”_

_“Why? Why can’t she be that nice?”_

_“She’s always smiling even when people are mean to her, it’s suspicious!”_

_“By people, you mean you.”_

The whole thing left a sour taste in his mouth, and now Ann was mad at him, over some new girl! Why didn’t they trust his gut?

“Man, she really pisses me off.” Ryuji rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair. He and Akira were sitting on the bleachers outside during P.E., the girls of their class going through stretches on the field below. His eyes found Kimura with ease. He found himself watching her often, with narrowed eyes of course, in case she was up to something.

“You know,” said Akira, “you do have a knack for this.”

“I know, right?!”

“And you’ve been right about the people whose hearts we’ve changed.”

“That’s what I’m telling you, man—”

“But are you sure that your wires aren’t getting crossed here?”

Ryuji tore his gaze away from Kimura, her arms pulled taut in a stretch and her curls corralled into a high ponytail. “What?”

“Maybe there’s a different reason why she bugs you so much.”

“What other reason?” His eyes slid back to her before he was even done talking. He recognized the way she and another girl were lining up at the line on the track; one leg back, knees bent, fingers on the ground by her forward-leaning foot—

Some of the other girls were clapping, whooping, and one raised her hand with her index finger pointed up like an imaginary pistol—

She wasn’t going to—

“Bang!” said the girl with a giggle, and Kimura launched herself. She and the girl she was racing sprinted across the track while the pistol-girl timed with a stopwatch clutched at her chest. It was clear from the outset that Kimura would win. Her form was beautiful, legs long and leanly muscled, and they carried her to the designated finish line in what felt like seconds. Ryuji’s chest ached and he sucked in air through his teeth—he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. The girls crowded around her while she blushed and fidgeted with her hands, and he could hear them from even up on the bleachers: “Wow, Kimura-san, that was great!” “That might be a new record, senpai!” “I wish we had a girl’s track team, you’d be a star on it for sure, Kimura-chan!”

Ryuji’s hands balled into fists and he grasped his knees, finally looking away. “Can’t stand her,” he muttered.

Akira, to his credit, said nothing.


	2. Immersion

It was a Sunday, which usually meant Mementos or a palace exploration, but it’d been a while since they’d had any leads and even Mishima was having trouble finding them anyone substantial on the Phantom Thieves fansite, so Ann had suggested a day off.

“It’ll be fun,” she insisted at Kitagawa’s awkward wince. “Futaba and Haru are busy, but it’ll still be the five of us, and there’s a new karaoke place I’ve been meaning to try.”

A day off with his friends sounded fun, especially with his head still such a mess. Besides, a little part of Ryuji was worried this whole Kimura thing was putting a strain on his friendships, and this was just what the doctor ordered. Ann met them just outside of Shibuya Station, looking like a model as ever out of her school uniform, and Ryuji greeted her normally; she seemed distracted, however, glancing down at her phone with her brows creased in worry.

“Yo, Earth to Ann,” Ryuji snapped his fingers, bending down to look at her face. “Everyone’s here, let’s get going.”

“We’re waiting for one more person.” Ann glanced up, looked around, and then back at her phone. “I hope she didn’t get lost…”

“Huh? One more? Is Haru coming after all?” Ryuji turned in a circle looking for the familiar girl while realization dawned for both Akira and Makoto.

“Ann, you didn’t,” Makoto murmured, fighting a smile.

The other girl gave Makoto a wink, still a little nervous at how long it was taking this sixth person to arrive. Ryuji didn’t get it. “Ann didn’t what?”

Like a magnet, he found a mess of black curls through the crowd and groaned. Kimura was flicking between her surroundings and her phone, searching for someone.

“Dude,” said Ryuji, nudging Akira’s shoulder. “Look who’s over there, by the telephone pole.”

Before Akira had even followed Ryuji’s gaze, however, Ann suddenly waved both her arms and called out, “Miu-chan, over here!”

Ryuji spun around to face his friend. “What? Don’t call her over, let’s just wait for Haru and—”

Ryuji didn’t think he’d ever seen Ann look so sly. “Haru isn’t our sixth, Miu-chan is.”

Ryuji swallowed his next words because Kimura had already reached them and Ann’s sly look was replaced by a warm, friendly smile.

“I was worried,” she said, “you’re late!”

“Sorry,” said Kimura, face flushed. “I got off on the wrong stop. I usually don’t come out to Shibuya.”

Ann made introductions between Kimura and Makoto and Kitagawa; she demurely greeted Akira and then her eyes locked with Ryuji. There was something melancholy, something pained, about the way she looked at him. He didn’t like it.  _ I don’t like  _ _ her _ .

“Hi, Sakamoto-kun.” Her voice was so soft when she greeted him. Like a whisper.

Ryuji fought his answering scowl with everything he had, keeping his face carefully neutral— _ Ann will just get angry with me again if I start a fight— _ and pushed past Kimura without saying anything.

* * *

 

He only grew more frustrated when they got to the karaoke place. Kimura had hung back in the group, a stark contrast to Ann’s outgoing personality but more extreme than Makoto’s mature, reserved nature. Kitagawa mentioned he was an artist, and the damn girl’s eyes had  _ lit up _ and they were so absorbed in their own damn little conversation—

Ryuji’s knee bounced with excess energy, both his arms swung out to rest on the back of the sofa while Ann and Makoto stumbled through a duet between fits of giggles. Kitagawa was framing Kimura in his fingers, as he did to things often, and Kimura laughed and pushed his hands down.

“Why would you want to paint her anyway?” Ryuji took a long drink from his glass as Kimura’s face sobered, the smile dissolving.

“Ryuji!” said Ann from the stage, her voice amplified by the microphone. He didn’t realize the music had stopped. The whole room had heard him.

“It’s fine, Ann-chan,” said Kimura. She was looking down at her hands.

Kitagawa shifted uncomfortably. “I think she’s got quite a nice aesthetic. This outfit especially, the color composition is...I would be glad to paint you.”

Her face went scarlet and the atmosphere of the room lightened until it was back to normal. Makoto frowned at him, Akira gave him a sidelong glance and the typical-Akira raised eyebrow, but  _ Kimura _ . His outburst had made him relevant to her again, it seemed, as if reminding her that he was there, and so even when her conversation with Kitagawa resumed, she would steal quick glances at Ryuji over the artist’s shoulder.

He didn’t really understand Yusuke’s comment about the “color whatever” of her outfit. It was just a yellow top—a soft yellow like warm butter, cropped so that a sliver of pale skin showed through when she moved—and olive green shorts. Barely any color at all, the only pop a vibrant red scrunchie on her left wrist. Pretty plain, actually.

Ann dropped herself on the couch, interrupting his line of sight. “Give her a break from the glaring, will ya? Geez, I’ve never seen you this hostile toward a girl before.”

“Why did you invite her?”

“Immersion therapy,” Ann said seriously.

“Immer-what?”

Ann sighed. “I wanted to introduce her to the rest of the group and also force you to be around her more. She’s really sweet, Ryuji, and I think you’d have a lot in common. Akira trusts her—and just  _ look  _ at how she and Kitagawa-kun get along—even  _ Morgan  _ likes her, why won’t you give her a chance?”

“Morgan likes any pretty girl, that’s hardly an example of sound judgement—”

Ann smirked. “So you admit she’s pretty.”

“That has  _ literally  _ nothing to do with what I’m saying right now.”

“Fine, let me phrase this a different way.” She lowered her voice. “If she can’t be trusted,  _ if _ , wouldn’t it make more sense to keep her around anyway? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Plus, if she’s that bad, wouldn’t she have a palace? And if she did have a palace, wouldn’t it be easier to find that out if we get to know her?”

Ryuji chewed on his lower lip. “I...guess you have a point.”

Ann nodded with finality. “There. You have a plan. A reason to be nice to her. Now stop being such a  _ prick _ .”


	3. Apologies

The next day at school, he caught her on the track field again. He and Akira were leaving, the school day technically over, when he glanced out a window and spotted her jogging the loop of the track.

“Ryuji?” Akira stopped, holding his school bag over one shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“I’ll catch up.”

Akira peeked out the window to see what had caught his friend’s eye, smiling when he noticed the girl down below. “I’ll see you, then.”

Ryuji got to the track just in time to see her lined up for the pole vault. He hung back for just a moment, long enough for her to launch. She threw herself over the bar, body twisting, back arching, and she cleared it easily, landing with a gentle thump on the padding below. He approached then, wordlessly, and stuck his hand out to her. She seemed surprised, but recovered quickly with a small curve of her lips and she grasped his offered hand at the wrist. He helped her up, trying not to marvel at how light she was, and turned to promptly leave. It wasn’t like he had anything particular to say to her anyway. Besides, he always got so jumbled up and he’d end up just saying something rude again—

“Sakamoto-kun, wait!”

She was staring after him, doe eyes big and wide; she fiddled with her hands, looking off to the side when he turned back around.

“What’d ya need?” He flinched at his own tone. _Even when I try to be calm I still come off like an ass around this girl._

“I just...wanted to say…” She pulled at the hem of her P.E. shirt. Apparently fidgeting was a nervous tick of hers. “At my old school, we’d heard about you.”

“About me?”

She nodded. “You were...Everyone knew you were a star sprinter. I used to practice with the boys’ track team, they all talked about it. Your record…” Her face went flush “I started to sprint because of your record.”

Ryuji’s jaw clenched. “The past is the past.”

“Um, I’m trying to say I’m…” She looked down again, voice catching. “I’m sorry. About your leg.”

He felt almost like he’d been doused in cold water. He’d been _gossiped_ about, like some kind of fall from grace, his humiliation made even more public than he’d feared—he didn’t know how far her old school was but he knew it was _far_ , and for them to be talking about it—

He swallowed the sourness in his throat, but he still sounded bitter when he snapped, “If that’s it, I’ve got shit to do.”

He left then and she didn’t call him back.

* * *

 

In hindsight, going to Mementos alone was probably one of his stupider decisions, but he just really needed to blow off steam, and he didn’t need Akira, or Ann, making comments about it. He thought about inviting Yusuke, but he’d never spent time alone with the artist and he didn’t know what they’d even talk about, and he figured if he didn’t go that deeply down he’d be fine.

He’d been, unsurprisingly, wrong.

Without anyone to heal him, the fatigue caught up to him quickly. He had waited to long to turn back, and he wasn’t prepared when a Shadow attacked him just before he reached the entrance. He’d barely defeated it, pulling himself up the steps of the station, his body heavy with exhaustion. Taking his cell phone from his pocket, he tried to craft a text to Akira—he didn’t even know if the trains were still running, or how late it was, but the streets were nearly empty and he couldn’t sleep outside like this—

“Sakamoto-kun?”

Ryuji lifted his head with a quiet groan; he recognized that voice. “Why are you _here_ , Kimura?”

Through his tired haze he saw her, face pink as ever, but instead of a school uniform or even the casual outfit she’d worn during karaoke, she was in something in between—plain black pants, a white shirt—

“I-I got a part time job at the diner,” she said, watching the suspicion flit across his face. Almost as if she knew what he was thinking, could read him easily. “You look awful, is everything alright?” She reached for him.

“I’m fine.” He moved to brush her off but found himself swaying, the edges of his vision darkening. He leaned against the wall of the station entrance for support.

“S-Sakamoto-kun!” She knelt by him as he started to slide. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he hissed, “you’re so annoying—”

He didn’t need help, _especially_ not from her—

* * *

 

He came to suddenly, his body aching, in a bed that was definitely too comfortable to be his.

“Good, you’re awake.” Oh, Ryuji could identify a terse Akira in his _sleep_. “Mind telling me what the hell you were thinking?”

Akira sat by his bedside, arms crossed at his chest and legs crossed at the knee.

“So I _did_ manage to text you,” said Ryuji, sitting up with a wince.

“No,” Akira deadpanned. “Miu called me in a panic after you passed out, and then she brought you here on the last train out.”

Ryuji was abruptly wide awake as the rest of the room came into focus: Akira’s room, above the coffee shop. “Wait, she what?”

Akira gestured behind him at a lump of blankets on his couch. Ryuji looked closer and saw the telltale curls and then gaped at his friend.

“She carried me—all by herself?”

“She got you on the train, I met her there and helped her with you. I already called your mom, told her you passed out cold studying at my place.” Akira’s expression was hard. “Still believe Miu is so untrustworthy?”

Ryuji was staring at her sleeping face, poking out among a blanket cocoon. “Is her lip split?” There was a shadowy, bluish color on her jaw as well, almost like a bruise.

“Some guys tried to harass her on the train. She hit one with pepper spray but the other one clocked her. “Akira stood, walked over to nestle the blankets more snugly around her. “She wouldn’t even let me ice it. She said it was nothing. _You_ were the priority.”

A lump formed in Ryuji’s throat.

“Get some rest, don’t wake her.” Akira settled into his futon on the floor. “In the morning you owe me an explanation as to why exactly you went into Mementos alone, and you owe _Miu_ a thoughtfully crafted apology.”


End file.
